


long past / your past

by maddy_does (favefangirl)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arachnophobia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Happy Beginning, Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, Kinda, Love Confessions, M/M, Redemption, TW:, The Boys Get Therapy, They need it, because boy, in this house we ignore the epilogue, like the cream in an oreo, mentions of abuse, more references, not in any kind of detail, or the biscuit in a reverse oreo, some sexual references, the angst kind of sits in the middle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23430409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/favefangirl/pseuds/maddy_does
Summary: potters-little-ferret said:Harry is a master at catching and disposing of spiders, and is always the person everyone calls whenever one shows up. He doesn’t like killing them, so he just picks them up in his hand and drops them outside without any fuss.Draco, who hates spiders, literally detests them, can’t understand how Harry can just casually pick up one of those eight-legged spawns of Satan in his hand so casually.Harry’s just like, ‘oh yeah, when I lived with my aunt and uncle, there were loads of spiders in the cupboard where I slept. I’m kind of used to them now.’And that’s basically how Draco found out that Harry was kept in a cupboard for half his life.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 14
Kudos: 328





	long past / your past

**Author's Note:**

> based on [this](https://potters-little-ferret.tumblr.com/post/177269540135/harry-is-a-master-at-catching-and-disposing-of) tumblr post : ))
> 
> also, sorry about the tags :|

Few things truly terrify Draco. When your formative years are spent in the shadow of a genocidal maniac and his not so secret club of psychopaths - a club you’re encouraged, from birth, to join by your own father - things like heights and the dark just don’t pack the same sort of punch. Even his fear of failure has waned over the years, but then when you betray the aforementioned maniac (risking _life and limb_ no less) for the sake of a schoolyard crush, you tend to loosen up a bit.

However. Spiders can only be the product of hell itself. Their sinister little bodies, and eerie, spindly legs. Which, speaking of legs, nothing that isn’t hiding malicious intentions needs eight of the bloody things. None of this, _they need to build webs, Draco_ , or _they’re good at getting rid of mosquitoes, Draco_. They’re evil incarnate, and Draco refuses to be ashamed of the paralysing fear that spreads through his body at the sight of the little bastards.

It wasn’t something he expected to be a uniting force, his arachnophobia, but it managed to lessen the inherited tensions between himself and Weasley. In agreement were they that everything that was wrong with the world was only ever exacerbated by the presence of an eight-legged creep. Harry was overjoyed to see them both getting on so well, if only out of a mutual fear.

Though, Draco begrudgingly admitted, he owed a lot to the freaky little critters. Had there not been one (the size of his _head_ , might I add) chilling in his bathtub like the little shit paid rent, he wouldn’t have had to run crying to his next door neighbour. Had he not done _that_ , a half naked Harry Potter would not have come to the door, all sleep dishevelled and looking like a walking wet dream. If that hadn’t happened, then Draco may not have been acquainted with what is turning out the be the love of his life, thus allowing him both a chance to atone for the actions of the scared little boy he once was, as well as finally get a chance at true happiness after so much pain.

Harry, the prick, had been _amused_ if not still a little suspicious when he’d answered the door to Draco that day. _“A spider?”_ he’d asked, incredulous. _“You need saving from a spider?”_

And yes, well, Potter was better used to saving people from dark lords and malicious mermaids, wasn’t he. A teeny little spider (which it _wasn’t_ ) was hardly a threat, was it. Not to the boy who lived. Not to a brave ex-Gryffindor who, Draco noticed appreciatively, had clearly scouted the local gym when he’d moved into the building, if the sculpted muscles which danced beneath his skin as he reached into the bathtub - just reached right in as though it was the most casual thing in the world - and saved Draco from the unwelcome house guest. Not that Draco was ogling him of course.

Draco had stood, somewhat petulant, leaning against the doorway to his bedroom in case the spider somehow freed itself and came after its captor. Harry very calmly placed the spider on the window ledge outside and made sure it was firmly closed behind him. Now that he saw there was no trick to this, that Draco really did just need his help, the suspicion was gone but the amusement was very much still there. Draco wanted to punch him in the face.

 _“You’re saved,”_ Harry had teased, _“The terrifying beast is gone.”_ Draco had huffed, rolled his eyes, unappreciative of the ribbing. _“You know,”_ Harry had continued, _“If you wanted to thank me, you could take me out for a drink?”_

Draco had huffed again, then made it very clear that yes, alright, he _would_ take Harry out for a drink, but _only_ because it was the polite thing to do. _No_ , it didn’t mean he liked him, and it would definitely be just the one. Furthermore, Harry had better well understand that drink was _not_ a euphemism for any of the unsavoury activities the prophet had been reporting he’d been getting up to with any and every witch and/or wizard he met.

Then, Draco proceeded to give him a blow job in a grim alley outside the bar. 

It wasn’t the most romantic start to a relationship: a spider-related saviour mission, and gross oral sex (followed by not-so-gross penetrative sex once they’d gotten back to Draco’s apartment. Twice.) _But_ , a start it was, nonetheless, as it became apparent that the unrequited schoolyard crush Draco had harboured for Harry had never quite gone away. Furthermore, as it turns out, it wasn’t quite so unrequited either. Of course, Harry’s hatred of Draco during their Hogwarts days had been mostly sincere. That can happen, though, when you’re generally, racist, cruel and unpleasant. But deep down there’d always been a physical attraction, and now that Draco was trying to right the wrongs of his past - no easy feat, he’d done a lot of wrongs - an emotional attraction could grow as well.

Theirs was not the most conventional of relationships, though Draco supposes any romance that grows between two arch-rivals wouldn’t be. But Harry makes Draco feel happy and safe and, dare he say it, _loved_ in a way he’s never felt before. Harry is funny and charming and so unbelievably handsome that Draco has to pinch himself sometimes. But mostly, he’s forgiving and kind and probably the best person Draco knows - not because he can’t be selfish or brash or sarcastic, but because he _chooses_ to be good despite those things.

Plus, he’ll always deal with the spiders. 

At first, they didn’t mention the war very much. It was a sore subject on all sides. But Harry’s therapist said that they couldn’t have a healthy relationship until they’d both said everything they’d needed to say. Draco had been flattered that Harry would talk to his therapist about him - that he was an important enough factor in his life - and as much as he hated the idea, he knew that Dr Touyin was right. 

It’d been a long, emotional, exhausting night when they’d finally had that conversation. Draco had talked about his father, the expectations that came along with the Malfoy name, the fear of what Voldemort would do to his family, his mother if he didn’t do what he asked. He talked about the anguish of seeing Harry dead, the hopelessness, the realisation that there’d be no one left to save them all now. Harry listened, patiently, wiping his tears when he cried, holding him when he couldn’t bare the distance between them.

 _“Fear doesn’t justify what I did,”_ Draco had said, mostly into Harry’s shoulder. _“I hurt people, people who didn’t deserve it. The fact that I was scared doesn’t make that okay.”_ He’d been sure to look Harry in the eye when he’d added, _“But I want to. I want to work to make it better - as much of it as I can, anyway.”_

Harry had kissed him, held him a little longer, poured himself another glass of wine, before telling his own story. When Draco cried this time, it wasn’t for himself. It was for the pain of all those Harry lost - his parents, his godfather, Remus and Tonks, Fred Weasley, Hedwig, Dobby and the rest - it was for the anger at Dumbledore, the praised hero, raising Harry to die. It was for Harry who gave _everything_ , including his life, to an ungrateful world. It was for the boy Harry could’ve been if war hadn’t been all he knew.

Dr Touyin _was_ right, and after they’d talked their relationship was stronger than ever. Harry had made it his mission to help Draco right his wrongs, reintroducing him to his friends, helping him apologise, getting him involved in the rebuilding of the Wizard world. In return, Draco helped Harry have the most ordinary life he could. It was all he wanted, really, some normalcy. 

Between Harry teaching and Draco’s healer training, there weren't always enough hours in the day, but they made sure to make time for each other, to talk about what was going on, the good and bad. Harry continued to see Dr Touyin, and eventually convinced Draco to find a counsellor for himself. Initially Draco was sceptical, but ultimately he found that talking to someone about what he’d been through helped him process it all. It made his attempts at atonement all the easier to understand why things had been the way they were. 

Draco was sure, then, that they’d told each other everything. After all, what more was there to say? They talked of the war, of Hogwarts, of their childhoods. Harry had told Draco about how the Dursleys resented him because of his magic, so whenever he could he'd go stay at the Burrow. He talked of how little the Weasleys had, but how willing they were to share nonetheless (as evidenced by the ‘D’ sweater Draco received on their first Christmas together.

 _“You’re basically family now,”_ Harry had teased.

So Draco was sure that was that. Their whole, bitter histories laid out bare for one another. It was a testament to their strength as a couple that despite all that, all the misery and the struggle and the pain, that not even all of that could act as something that would tear their relationship apart.

Then.

“Potter!” Draco called - because they only called each other their first names, really, during sex - from the bedroom, staring at his pillow in horror.

Draco heard a sigh from the living room behind him, then soft footfalls until Harry was stood beside him. “What do you-- _oh_.” 

Harry sighed again, then slid past Draco into the room. Immediately, Draco took three long strides away from the door so that Harry would have space to get rid of the intruder. “We’re going to have to burn the bedding now,” Draco said as Harry emerged from the room, spider held firmly in his hands. 

Harry took two steps towards Draco with his hands extended in front of him, prompting Draco to take two leaps backwards, with a distinctly unmanly squeal. He held out an accusatory finger. “You dare!” he yelled, not really sure what he was threatening. Harry just laughed and shook his head, nodding to the window so Draco would open it for him. “I don’t know how you can just hold them like that, the little spawns of evil,” Draco mumbled as he went. 

Draco heard the shrug in Harry’s voice as he explained, “Living with the Dursleys kind of got me accustomed, I guess. A lotta spiders in the cupboard where I slept.”

Harry closed the window as Draco stared at him, dumbfounded. “You slept in a cupboard?”

Harry shrugged again. “Yeah, under the stairs. Then Hagrid gave my cousin a tail this one time, so they let me have a room after that. Bars on the windows though. Fred, George and Ron got into so much trouble breaking me out.” Harry laughed as though anything he had just said was remotely funny, and shook his head as though in a state of nostalgia.

Then, calmly as anything, he went into the bathroom. A few seconds later Draco heard the water running. A shower. He was taking a goddamn shower. He’d just dropped the bombshell that he’d spent his childhood in a _spider infested cupboard under the stairs_ , and now the git was taking a goddamn shower. Draco couldn’t move from the spot. He was shocked, horrified, absolutely knocked for six.

Some monster had looked at a child - Draco remembered eleven year old Harry, in ill-fitting robes, cheeks almost hallow, a curious glint in his eyes - and instead of looking after it, loving it, giving it a _home_ , they’d forced it under the stairs like bad gift from a distant relative that they’d not asked for. Draco could barely breathe around the lump in his throat, and he was struck by the wonderment that Harry, who had been dealt nothing but shit hands by the world, had come out the other side of it so _good_. 

Draco had managed to make his legs move him to the sofa by the time Harry had gotten out of the shower, a pair of pyjama pants (Draco’s) hanging low on his hips, and a towel in his hands drying his unruly hair. Draco just stared as Harry hummed some muggle tune he didn’t recognise, bobbing his head a little as he made his way into the kitchen, as though no one had ever been so cruel to him. 

He flicked on the kettle and turned to Draco. “Tea?” he offered, tossing the towel into the laundry basket by the washer.

Draco just stared at him, mostly in amazement, then managed to force himself to his feet and walk over. Harry began to ask what he was doing, but he ignored him in favour of wrapping his arms around him and burying his head in the juncture of his neck. Harry, clearly still confused, just hugged him closer, planting a kiss on his temple. Draco was struck by the ridiculousness of _him_ being the one needing comfort after what Harry had just revealed, but that wasn’t enough for him to pull away.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled into Harry’s skin. “I’m so sorry that the world has been so wicked.”

“Hey,” Harry soothed, clearly finally understanding what was going on, “I know.” He managed to pull Draco away from him, wiping at a lone tear falling, cupping his jaw gently. “I know. But the Dursleys are my past, the same as Lucius is for you.”

“But-”

“I’m not burying my head in the sand,” Harry continued, using the hand that wasn’t rubbing circles into Draco’s cheek to brush a strand of hair behind Draco’s ear. “I’ve talked about it all with Dr Touyin. I am dealing with it. I just don’t want _that_ to affect _this_ .” Draco must’ve pulled a face. “I know. I know that we’re meant to be honest with each other, and I wasn’t being malicious in keeping it from you. But the Dursleys are way in the past. I have a proper family now, people who love me and care for me. The Weasleys, Hagrid, Hermione, _you_.” Harry leaned forward to rest their foreheads together. “You know I’ll tell you anything you want to know, but this doesn’t change anything for us. It’s just history.”

Draco shook his head, moved his hands to rest on Harry’s hips, to bring them as close together as he could get. “You don’t _have_ to tell me anything. But if you want to, I’d like to hear it. Even if it is just history. We’re partners, what you go through I go through, and what you’ve been through, I’ve been through. Whenever, if ever, you’re ready.” He shook his head again. “I want to kill them.”

Harry exhaled a soft laugh just as the kettle boiled. “Maybe your revenge mission can wait until after a cuppa?”

Draco laughed with him and pulled away to grab two cups out of the cupboard. He handed them to Harry with a kiss on the cheek and went over to sit on the sofa. He opened up the laptop on the coffee table and loaded Netflix (Draco wasn’t a big fan of muggle technology, but anything that gave him direct access to Henry Cavill in the Witcher was alright in his books) while Harry made the drinks. Harry handed Draco one of the cups as he got settled on the other side of the sofa. Draco leaned against him, tucked under his arm, and pressed play.

“I still want to kill them,” Draco murmured after a short pause of silence as they watched the show.

“I’m flattered,” Harry replied, gently stroking Draco’s hair, “but you can’t blow me from prison.”

Draco laughed so hard he nearly spilled his tea. Harry will tell Draco about the Dursleys later that night while they’re both in bed, cocooned in a nest of safety and love. He won’t cry, but Draco will. Harry will wipe away the tears Draco is spilling for him and will tell him, in a voice barely above a whisper, that he loves him for the first time.

And it will be good.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for coming to another instalment of maddy doesn't know how to write fucking endings! hope you enjoyed your stay!
> 
> if you wanna leave a comment or a kudos they're much appreciated! especially let me know if there's something you think i forgot to tag!
> 
> i like friends so my tumblr is always open: [maddy-does](https://maddy-does.tumblr.com/). my Insta is @maddy.does, but i'm super inactive so good luck, lol.
> 
> i'm taking prompts! if you're interested please message me on one of the social media listed above, or drop the prompt in the comments below. if you do send a prompt be prepared for me to take fifty years to fill it because school is so hard, but i promise i'll try!
> 
> thanks again for reading, have a wonderful existence.


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